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| 25th Dec 2025 |
Christmas morning usually starts with hymns and holy silence. Mine started with a scream.
I was strapped into an Alpine Coaster at the Datanla Waterfall, tearing down the mountain at breakneck speed. The wind was slapping my face, the pine trees were blurring into green streaks, and for a few glorious seconds, I wasn't a solo traveler doing mental math about her daily budget. I was just a blur of noise and adrenaline.
Merry Christmas to me.
Honestly, the day actually started with a lesson in "Vietnam Time." My guide, who was supposed to be there at 8:00 AM, texted to say he’d be late. So, I killed time at a street stall and accidentally ordered a feast: my beloved Salted Coffee and two Banh Mi. I forgot that Vietnamese portions aren't snacks—they’re commitments. I sat there stuffing my face with meat, eggs, and veggies, fueling up like I was preparing for hibernation.
First stop: Robin Hill. I dropped 120,000 VND for the cable car and found myself dangling high above the pine forests. I shared the cabin with a guy from the UK and another from Korea. We swung our feet over the canopy, chatting about monkeys and jungles while the lake glittered below us. It was peaceful.
Then came the reality check.
After the coaster (another 130k gone), we hit the Strawberry Farm. I sat this one out on a bench. Between the bag I bought on my first day and the harvesting I did yesterday, I’m basically 90% strawberry at this point. I decided to just enjoy the view for free.
Then came lunch. I sat with a sweet couple from Myanmar, but I made a rookie mistake: I ordered two dishes. The bill hit 188,000 VND. I stared at the uneaten food, and the realization hit me harder than the altitude.
By the time we reached Langbiang Hill (another 120k entrance fee), the math was starting to stress me out. It felt like every single step had a price tag. I confessed to the Myanmar couple: "I thought Vietnam would be cheap, but my spending habits are as bad as they are back home in Malaysia."
They laughed and nodded. We were bonding over the budget hustle.
But then, a moment of pure grace.
The Korean traveler in our group—"Oppa Korea"—saw us catching our breath in the crisp, chilly mountain air. Without a word, he walked into a grocery shop and came back with ice cream for the entire group. He was beaming, holding them up like trophies. "This is from my home country!" he told us.
It wasn't pity; it was just pride and sharing. Even with the cold wind biting at us, that sweet treat warmed me right up.
As we climbed Langbiang, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The cool air, the rolling hills, the majestic pine trees... I looked around and thought, Wait, am I in Vietnam or Kundasang? The resemblance to Sabah was eerie. For a moment, looking at the trees that mirrored my homeland, I didn't feel so far away.
The Broken Toy and The Hard Choice
I ended the tour early to escape the crowds at the Crazy House and walked back to the city center. At 5:15 PM, I went to the church. It was packed.
I was squeezing through the crowd when—CRUNCH.
I stepped right on a plastic toy a child had dropped. The kid looked up, eyes welling with tears. I didn't hesitate. I bought him a brand-new toy immediately. His tears turned into a massive smile.
I waited for someone to wish me Merry Christmas. Silence.
Fine, I decided. If you want the vibes, you have to bring them.
I walked down to the Christmas tree and started beaming at strangers. "Merry Christmas!" I told them. They looked surprised, then smiled back.
But my charity has a limit.
Outside the church, a beggar approached me. I looked at him, and I walked away.
Yesterday, I saw a tourist give money to a begging child, and I refused to do the same. Some might call me cold, but I come from Sabah, where we wrestle with this issue daily. Normalizing begging, especially for kids, feels like trapping them in a cycle. That kid needs school, not my spare change. I bought a toy for a crying child today because I broke his. But I won't pay to keep a child on the street.
Christmas Reflection: The Balance Sheet
Christmas is usually about giving, but solo travel forces you to be a little selfish. You have to hoard your energy, your safety, and yes, your resources.
Today was a weird emotional balance sheet. I spent money recklessly on roller coasters, but I withheld it from a beggar. I felt careful looking at my wallet, but rich when "Oppa Korea" handed me that ice cream. I felt lonely in the crowd, until I realized the hills looked just like home.
We judge ourselves for how we spend our money and our kindness. But I’m learning that generosity isn't always cash. Sometimes, it’s an ice cream shared with strangers. Sometimes, it’s a "Merry Christmas" to a passerby. And sometimes, it’s just recognizing that the pine trees in Vietnam wave the same way they do in Borneo.
Date: December 25, 2025 (Christmas Day) Location: Da Lat Mood: High Altitude, Mindful Wallet
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